It ended in psssssst.

It seemed like we all waited so long for the rivers to come good and then finally just before the end of the season they did. But there was to be no final hurrah for me. My river season ended like a silent fart, hardly noticeable but defiantly there. I don't mind admitting either that the downfall of my finale was largely due to my attitude.

Two weeks before the whistle blew I was able but hardly inclined to fish the river. Normally from Christmas right through to March fourteenth I develop a slow romance between myself and the river which is founded on freezing days dace and chub fishing when other anglers are deterred by the cold. This year with the floods this brief relationship never came and even when the river came on-line I found myself disconnected from the rivers and feeling my river skills were... well, a bit rusty.

My actual final outing saw me head to the Warwickshire Avon in search of big dace. This session had originally been allotted for me to join a friend fishing a small yet reportedly over-productive river where the dace are nearing special proportions. But as these arrangements are susceptible to we were unable to meet up due to other commitments. So I headed to a faithful old section of the Avon instead.

This is a difficult thing to write about in reality. It's one of those times when I was not lacking for bites or action and should I have not turned up to this float fishing party with two feeder rods I feel sure I could have filled a keepnet with enough dace and roach to give Alan Scotthorne an erection. But the reality was that for all the sport available I could not magic a twelve ounce fish from the millions, and I mean millions of two ounce fish. 

A couple of pike turning up did form some interesting bends in my nine foot feeder rod here and there, but disappointingly I found my self running out of bait late in the morning and not being that bothered that I had to pack up and leave. Coincidentally my running out of bait happened not a moment too soon as more and more anglers showed up late on to try their hand ending their seasons with a bang and by the time I crossed the river there were at least ten others upstream of me, which is the most I have ever seen on that bit of river in years.

Then came a lucky twist to the day...

After joining my good lady for a peramble around a spring kissed park and late lunch in a nice restaurant, I  happened to hint on the way home that given it was such a lovely day it would be a fantastic evening to be out fishing. Fifteen minutes later and I was on the road debating whether to head back to the river or drop round my friends lake for a cheeky session. Not wanting to go through the mill again with the river I opted for and hour lift float fishing with my chub gear.

The hidden pool was deserted when I arrived and even the irritating Canadian geese which have turned up to breed were being quiet for once. As I tracked round the edge of the water I came across an unusual sight for early March; in the last corner of the lake to catch the warm evening sun carp were hanging just under the surface. The water was obviously quite warm here and basking in the spring sun seemed quite popular with the pools residents.

I stood there thinking 'I can't... can I!'. Well it turned out I could! Starting slowly I broke the crusts of a slice of bread before breaking them again into small bits and then flicked them onto the surface. I love watching carp sometimes, it's like you can almost see what's going on in their heads. The crust drifted closer and one by one the carp stirred out of there slumber. At first one just nosed the crust but then soon enough sucked it in. Then another did, and another, and another. Once the first big slurp of the year occurred they all woke up as if someone had rung the dinner bell.

My gentle baiting soon became aggressive and the more bait that went in the more carp seemed to rise from the depths. Soon there must have been twenty or more fish sucking and slurping and the time had come to cast out. My free lined crust lasted a very short time on the surface before a small mirror took it. It was at this point that I was reminded it that even though these carp were feeding like it was a summer day, it was still only early spring.

That first fish hardly fought at all, it was almost as if it wasn't fully awake or it didn't have the energy for it, as it just skated weirdly straight into the net. Though after that first fish and more free bread the fishes activity increased and they woke up a bit.
Seven more followed in this my earliest surface session ever and although none of them will ever break the British carp record most were in nice condition and certainly lifted my fishing spirits after a mediocre last session on the rivers that ended in a psssssst.

It felt so right... and yet fished so wrong

                             
We all love Autumn, of that there is no doubt. I think as Spring is filled with hope, Autumn is tinged with reflection. They are both times when fishing can be bountiful as the fish like all other animals are either refreshing stores of energy spent over the Winter, or stocking up for the lean times ahead. And although we are still hanging onto Autumn like those last few leaves that cling to the tree outside the window, there is still fruit to be plucked before the world becomes barren.

Like most I find myself in a predator state of mind right now; fattening pike, hungry zander and of course mammoth perch fill my mind. I count myself to be particularly blessed where the latter are concerned, as I have been lucky enough to, on the top of a solid base of two pound fish, land three three's and a four in the last two seasons, from a variety of  differing waters.

The canals have been good to me in these endeavours and although right now I feel it unlikely that they will produce a massive fish, they have enabled me to hone my perch float fishing skills to a point where I have total blind confidence in my method. Conversely the rivers locally don't inspire me enough to spend to much of my valuable time chasing after stripy ghost stories. So I find myself looking at a myriad of commercial pools that have recently become more viable places to search out those oversized Sargent's I so want.

I really do like fishing for these unpressurised predators on commercial style venues. The idea that they were never stocked intentionally or only as a filler fish and that they have now begun to grow to record shaking sizes kind of gives me a kick. But a small worry has crept in my head over the situation. You see I have begun to look for a certain size of water in this search for perch. I don't want it so big as it would make finding them near impossible and I don't want them so small as they don't have the resources to grow big. For me, and I say me as this is only my personal opinion, half a football pitch to a full football pitch is ideal. This sort of over stocked water can produce more than enough fodder for a perch to become big and it's not to hard in only a few sessions to search a lot of it out. BUT! this theory has kind of undermined itself for me, as now I am beginning to think that I and others might be re-catching the same fish again and again in these limited sized waters. Truth be told nothing spoils a water, peg or capture for me as a re-catch. I don't know exactly why it is that I find so disagreeable about them, but if I see the same fish out of the same swim of lake twice I just tend to walk away.

Oddly though it is a recapture that I took me fishing to the little lake where I was at the weekend. But then this recapture hasn't yet happened and in defence of my contradiction, the original capture happened some ten years ago. The water in question is the tiny woodland pool often used as a salve when lean times take their toll. It was on this small secluded pool that I caught one of my very first big perch by accident. At that time in my life I was merely concerned with catching any fish and was in no way inclined towards the pursuit of bigger sport. I think to say it was an old warrior would of been an understatement: worn down fins, one white eye and a distinct lack of flesh between the dorsal spines would describe the fish quite aptly. Even looking as rough as it did it was one of the biggest stripy's I had ever seen. Then low and behold on the same venue a few weeks later my mate Neil had another totally different one. As with a lot of information it gets discarded to the back of the human mind until something prompts recollection. In my case is was on a warm summer evening a couple of summers ago as I sat watching a quill next to lily pad that I spotted a corner of the pool erupt with fry. The float I was watching lost all appeal for a while and  I reeled in and went off to investigate...

The corner was black with fry and like a pelagic scene the little fishes moved as one. Every so often I could see them dart off in all directions leaving holes where the water would become disturbed by a larger fish charging into the shoal. I must have watched for half an hour before the rush of silver panic came flying from the water and what followed was the thing that prompted my memory. It wasn't a big perch by anyones standard but that single half pound perch, that with one pass of it stripy flank made me simultaneously remember those big fish and realise that this water was stuffed full of prey fish, and that perch were the only real aquatic predator.

Off and on  have been visiting and have had a modicum of  success that has kept me inspired. Although I have only had fish to just over two pounds they have all been young looking fish and that is good enough for me. Though saying that, this like many waters of  it kinds does have a draw back....carp!

As I am sure anyone who goes fishing for perch on these types of venues knows, big baits intended for perch have the magnetic ability to attract even the most lathargic carp on the coldest days, when people that are intentionally fishing for them can't get a bite! They're like anglers going past tackle shops - 'we just cant help ourselves' and neither can they.

The weather was just so perfect this past weekend. Not bad temps, heavily overcast sky and a light scattering of leaves on the water. I even got a pass out for an afternoon into night session. So this seemed the perfect opportunity to fish that most prized of angling times around dusk. The heavy cover of leaves that normally shroud this pool were more than half gone and in the tall oaks at the end of the spinney the crow roost was clearly visible. I was shocked to find no less than six other anglers lined up all along on bank hurling baits within feet of the opposite bank (that is accessible) trying to catch carp. Seeing them I headed up to the deep and thankfully deep end.

Trying to catch perch in a lake stuffed full of carp is a fine balancing act. Attractant is a must, but too much and your swim will be ruined when the carp turn up. So with this in mind, a few chopped worms were mixed into some maggots and lightly scattered into my own margin close to a semi submersed dead branch. It didn't take long for the intoxicating scent of the worms and hypnotic sight of falling maggots to attract some half-right attention.

I never think small fish being attracted to your bait is a bad thing when you're after perch, especially when fishing as clear a venue as this. The occasional bob here and there informed me of their constant presence and kept me confident they could bring in some perch. Even with fish in the swim my float never actually indicated a proper bite until just before dusk when a random hybrid zipped off with my bait. Undeterred, I cast back onto the spot where moments later the float bobbed once then slid off slowly. At first I did think a big perch was on the cards but disappointingly the fish soon surged away with far to much power for my quarry.

The outcome was always inevitable if my lightish tackle held. It did and after several runs out into the lake a big gaping mouth appeared just off the end off my net before I landed...

Not a perch

Its always an awkward time when there's not enough light left to move and build up a new swim, and with that in mind I decided to stay put and take my chances. The perch though were a no show and hell, even if they did turn up, they would never have a look in as after that first carp four more winter coloured commons stuck there noses into my spot. The combined commotion and fuss left my ideal little perch paradise looking like the half settled foam from a pint of cheap larger.

Ultimately even though I had in a few short hours landed some very nice carp I did feel a little disappointed as the conditions were text book for big perch and it felt so right... and yet fished so wrong. But hey, no matter how hard you try and how much you want to catch a particular species you can't stop others from eating your baits, can you?

Signs of life

With three individual mothers day stops to make this weekend there was no chance of getting out and having a session Sunday morning.

So I briskly dragged Jacky around the town on Saturday morning to enable me to get out for afternoon session. Though everyone I know has been desperately trying to cram as much time in on the rivers before they close, I was steering well clear! As the last fish i caught on the river was a good way to finish and another session would inevitably ruin that for me. So a few hours at Ryton seemed a good option.

It was meant to be sunny all day with temperatures of 10-11c, but as per normal the met office proved to be less than useless and it turned out to be overcast, windy and a little cold. Even with this i still felt that i had decent chance of a run or two considering that with every day that passes the cold winter fades away and the signs of spring appear. When I arrived Ryton was unusually busy so after settling in the only peg I fancied, I cast out my normal two rods.

Like most others fishing I was getting touches but nothing I thought justified a strike. After a little rig tweeking I again cast out, but this time the rig modification worked a treat and one of my bobbins kept twitching enough for me to be confident there was a fish on my bait.

I was hoping it was a carp but the lack of fight indicated a smaller culprit. After a short somewhat understated fight i was made up when my first Tench of 2010 was in the net. The rig modifications have made me think! How many of those odd bleeps have actually been fish and how many have mouthed my baits not even registering on the bite alarms.
 I fished on till dusk came and finally the cloud cleared and the last few rays of sunlight lit the woods on the far side of the lake a beautiful burnt orange. A bit of sun and a tench in the bag; me thinks that spring doth approach. Roll on summer when the tench and carp will be in full swing.